Dumb Luck
by whisperasweknowit
Summary: "You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky...That's what you want, isn't it?"


Ron did not even try to duck as Harry hurtled the _POTTER REALLY STINKS_ badge at his head. It collided into his forehead with a painful thud and then clattered to the floor of the Gryffindor common room.

"There you go," Harry said icily, his green eyes smoldering. "Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky...That's what you want, isn't it?"

The redheaded boy watched, dumbstruck, as Harry turned on his heel and stormed towards the stairs of the boys' dormitory. Ron contemplated dashing after him and bashing his head in, but instead he knelt down and picked up the badge that had bounced off his forehead. He carried it over to the chair by the fireplace and sat down, watching the badge intently. The glowing green letters shone brightly in the dim light of the room.

"I don't want a bloody scar," Ron growled, reaching up one of his hands to touch the tender spot on his forehead. There wasn't even a cut. He pulled his legs up to his chest, scowling as the pants of his pajamas slid up to look like capris. "No, don't want a scar," he continued forcefully. "I just want _something_. Everything I own is rubbish. The only new thing I've ever gotten was my wand, and that was only a stroke of luck. And if the physical weren't enough, I don't have anything intangible that is of real value. No brains, no guts, not glory."

He stopped, glaring down at the badge. "Now I'm the one who is talking to himself."

Reduced to thoughts, Ron stood up and began to pace the floor. A drizzle had started up outside. He pressed his face to the window, watching as the rain steadily became heavier. It was soon pounding on the roof of the castle. Drops struck the glass of the window and slid down, bashing into each other and causing others to fall.

There was one raindrop that seemed to hit all the other drops on the window, yet it still managed to emerge each time and plummet farther down. _That drop is Harry_, Ron decided silently. _Just a whole lot of dumb luck. That's why it's still going_. _Harry's never really done anything in his life. His mum saved him from Voldemort when he was a baby as well as when he was a first year. Hermione was the reason he found the Chamber of Secrets, and he could have never slain the basilisk if it wasn't for Fawkes. I could have done it, too, but I was stuck with that dunderhead Lockhart. He couldn't have saved Sirius and Buckbeak if it hadn't been for Hermione. He's never done anything. He's just lucky._

Ron pulled away from the window. He caught his reflection among the drops and noticed a purple bruise blossoming from the spot where Harry had hit him with the badge. Ron touched it again and winced. He grabbed a fistful of his red hair and flattened it over the bruise, almost completely hiding the purple blemish.

Try as Harry might, Ron could never believe him. Harry put his name in the Goblet of Fire. Ron didn't know how, but he knew that he did. _Why else would his name have come out of the Goblet? The Triwizard Tournament promises eternal glory to the victor. Who would want to give Harry another shot to be bloody famous but himself?_

_Maybe Rita Skeeter…_Ron thought absently for a moment.

"He already has bloody eternal glory," Ron speculated darkly, shaking his head. "He just couldn't bear the thought of sharing the limelight at Hogwarts with anyone else."

The moment Ron had said it he felt a twinge of regret. He tried to suppress the feeling. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care and that Harry wasn't his friend anymore. But he couldn't shake it. Harry always outshined him. Harry always got all the attention; but Ron _missed_ him. Harry had always been nice to him when no one else would look at him. "Oh, look, it's just another Weasley," the others would say. Harry wasn't like that. He chose him, Ronald Weasley, over Draco Malfoy on the first day of school, even though Malfoy made it quite clear that Weasley wasn't the most popular name at Hogwarts.

Malfoy was always right. Ron wasn't special. He was poor, he was worthless. But Harry never believed that.

"STOP IT," Ron suddenly shouted aloud. "Harry Potter is _not your friend_. Whatever he did in the past is history now. They'll be teaching all his dumb luck in History of Magic one day. You won't even be mentioned. You were just his pitiful little stepping stone. Like the raindrops."

**AN: For ****The_Domain's**** writing challenge.**

**Prompt****: Dreams (good or bad)**

**Requirements****:**

**- must be a ****oneshot****;**

**- must contain a minumum of ****500**** words;**

**- must contain at least ****three**** of the following words/images: fear | floating | a destination or goal | falling | the dark | the light | **the color purpleraindropsa strong/intense emotion.

**(Not bold are the words/images I included).**

**Thanks for reading~**


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